MARIN DRASWIST IS CLOSE. Her goal has never been within her reach. The island is already divided into two warring sides, and Cardovia, the organization she serves, grows more powerful by the second with her help. But when a war against an extinct bu...
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2412, Xavem 10, Briss
A loud crash echoed in the whole plain, jostling Marin out of her cot. Ilya murmured in her sleep, turning and rubbing her eyes. This woman could sleep through Cardovia burning down, seriously. Marin crawled out of her blanket, noting the harsh shadows reflecting against the sun tainting the canvases of their tent. What's going on?
She ducked out of the tent, and a streak of red blared in her periphery. The Heiress' tent was on fire, and instead of trying to stop it, most soldiers cowered behind their tents, watching something behind her. When she turned, it made sense.
The Heiress, with her bland brown hair in disarray, stood at the heart of the flames, seething at nothing and everything—all at once. Marin pushed some bystanders out of the way, cursing under her breath. What has got the Heiress so destructive this early? Moreover, why was Marin feeling responsible for this witch's moods?
"Get me Marin!" the Heiress screamed at no one. A sea of gazes settled on Marin as she wove deeper into the crowd. Slowly, forms parted until she had a direct line towards the rampaging woman. "Where is she?"
Marin bowed, her blond hair spilling past her shoulders. The tangles bobbed in and out of her vision. "I'm here, Peredeira," she said. "What's the matter?"
The Heiress whirled to her. "What's the matter?" she echoed, her voice dipping into the realms of disbelief. "I can't feel the Virtakios' presence. That's the matter. That's the only thing that should matter."
Marin pursed her lips. What happened to Xanthy this time around? The last time Marin heard from her, she's scrambling away from the Heiress' pursuit. What happened after that? How does one vanish that even the Heiress' advanced senses couldn't pick up?
"What do you think happened?" Marin asked, risking life and limb to open her mouth while the Heiress was in a bad mood.
The Heiress closed her eyes, her chest heaving with deep breaths. Her gaze swept over the audience she's drawing, but her face said nothing about what she thought of them. Let them think of her as crazy—it seemed to be the Heiress' strategy now.
"That witch unearthed the Soulcleanser," the Heiress said. "And she used it. To hide her soul somewhere I can't reach."
Marin frowned. Such a thing was possible? Then, why haven't they done it since they realized Xanthy was the Virtakios? It could have ended a lot differently for a lot of people, Marin included.
"If you please, Peredeira," Marin stepped forward and clasped her hands together. "But what is the Soulcleanser? Enlighten me if this is a task you will entrust to me."
The Heiress regarded Marin, her features now back in their passive arrangement. Then, she snapped her fingers, and the ground rumbled. More murmurs and gasps filled the space. Before Marin's eyes, the ashes that once had been the tent canvases rearranged themselves in a swirl of black smoke dotted with stars-like flecks.
